


Fresh From The Fight

by Poemsingreenink



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Gen, fic request, michaela one shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 14:18:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8375440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poemsingreenink/pseuds/Poemsingreenink
Summary: Sometimes, the best pep talks come while you’re half naked in a public bathroom.





	

The week before Michaela’s real college classes began she’d been forced to attend an array of ridiculous wastes of time that the faculty referred to as “Student Enrichment Seminars” or SESs (An acronym no one had been able to pronounce without sounding like a snake.)

The purpose behind them was simple enough. Ease the transition from safe, secure middle-class home to crazy, stress-filled university life for the incoming freshman. There were tensions on the horizon, and the faculty was trying to weed out the potential nervous breakdowns before they had a chance to blossom.

Michaela had been a little unclear what any of that had to do with her, but they were mandatory so she went. She’d collected her rape whistle at the sexual assault seminar. Cross-referenced her color coded fall schedule with the university map during the alcohol awareness seminar, and had been fully prepared to sit in the back and get an early jump on the reading for her first real class (Eng 134: World Roots of Literature) when a horrible thing had happened in the Self-Esteem Seminar.

She’d been called to the front and asked to demonstrate a power pose.  

Feet planted. Chin up. Hands on hips. Chest open. Look big. Be visible. Pretend you’re Superman or Wonder Woman or whatever other nonsense superhero was popular that year.

“This position opens up the chest and allows for more oxygen to get to the brain,” said an RA who looked far too peppy to actually believe anything that was coming out of her mouth.  “It will raise your testosterone levels by 20%, and leave you feeling confident, relaxed and ready to handle the world.”

Michaela’d fake curtsied when she’d finished, and been greeted with a smattering of laughter and applause. She’d felt stupid standing in front of a classroom all those years ago, but now standing in the handicap stall of the court bathroom with Bonnie pacing the halls outside she desperately wanted to floor to open up and swallow her. But she was sweating and that was a problem.

The black jacket she’d worn today was off, and dangling from the hook meant for purses, and she’d draped the silky light blue undershirt over the door because she was sweating, _sweating_ , and she’d rather walk out of this court room and into traffic than defend her client with visible sweat stains anywhere on her person. The image of Asher’s damp jacket was burned into her brain, and she couldn’t be a repeat of that. She refused.

She took a deep breath, and made herself focus. According to her hurried Google search, the maximum benefit of this pose only came if you held it for two solid minutes, and she needed something to work.

Michaela was on unfamiliar ground. Anxiety before a challenge wasn’t usually her issue. She was good in the moment. When she came rushing into court rooms holding needed documents her blood sang. When she was piecing together information, letting the words and images tumble through her brain waiting for the familiar _click_ of clarity like a bank robber cracking a safe she felt the ultimate high. Better than sex, better than food, better than alcohol was being the most powerful person in the room, and she adored it. She'd tried being a slacker, but the adrenaline rush that came with a win was too sweet to ignore, and she’d been too smart to ever really pull it off.  

Michaela closed her eyes and took three deep breaths, waiting for the crazy to evaporate and _finally_ succeeded in wiping away the image of Asher's sweat-stained suit jacket like condensation off a mirror. This didn’t have to be a disaster. Not like the first one had been. She was first chair, and she had this one. Gone was the client who’d looked at her like she was a meal to be devoured, and in its place was an angry, struggling 16-year-old girl seeking emancipation from horrible parents.

It had her name written all over it.

“I don't know what you're doing in there,” Bonnie’s sharp voice echoed through the room. “But stop it and get out here.”

Michaela let her hands drop, but kept her chin high. She slid her blouse back on, and buttoned the jacket. The pose was still stupid, and maybe all she’d really needed was a moment alone, but none of that was going to matter. Because she was about to kill this, and that was the only thing the rest of the world was going to see.  

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note 1 : Okay, so last week I asked for Michaela prompts and tumblr user favemichaelapratt asked for something like this.
> 
> Author’s Note 2: I will neither confirm nor deny having ever done this.


End file.
